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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23571292">But I'm So Lonely</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperowl/pseuds/paperowl'>paperowl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aromantic, Aromantic Character, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Character Study, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Identity Issues, LGBTQ Themes, Light Angst, Michelle Jones-centric</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:27:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,170</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23571292</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperowl/pseuds/paperowl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Michelle became an activist, because when you’re fighting for the rights of others, people either care about the cause you support, or not at all. Whenever anyone asked if it was maybe time for a boyfriend, she had an answer prepared. Maybe romance wasn’t a structure of an overly capitalist system, but no one cared enough to debate it.</p><p>And then, Michelle met Peter.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Michelle Jones &amp; Peter Parker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696663</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>But I'm So Lonely</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I've been wanting to write a fic centered around aromanticism for a while now,  and I finally realized Michelle was my character, so here we are. Shoutout to our aro/ace icon Jo March for the title. Also this wasn't beta read, so if any typos slipped by, that's my bad.</p><p>This is heavily based off of my own experiences around discovering I was aromantic, and the death sentence it felt like in the beginning.  I would like to emphasize the fact that being aromantic or asexual is not the end of the world, you can have a happy life and be perfectly content, it just looks different from other people.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>“I feel strange suddenly, the old itch of fear that I am a feral girl in a domesticated world, watched by everyone with pity and concern. There are men like Monty, with perverse desires, but they find each other and carve out small corners of the world, and likely women too who find themselves only drawn to the fairer sex. And then there’s me, an island all my own. An island that sometimes feels like a whole continent to rule, and sometimes a cramped spit of land that sailors are marooned upon and left to die.” - The Lady's Guide to Petticoats and Piracy</i>
</p><p>————</p><p>Michelle sat in the dark staring at her phone. There it was, the word that described everything, the thing she was supposed to be excited about. The thing everyone seemed to have pride in. And she didn’t. For her, it was devastating, and any way she tried to spin it, that part didn’t go away. This word was an absolute, something that was probably for forever, so what happened if she didn’t want it?</p><p>She supposed she could pretend it didn’t exist, go about life like she always had, and just ignore it. But deep down she knew it was right, no matter how desperately she didn’t want it to be. Even if she acted like life was normal -like she was normal - some part of her would know it was wrong. Hot tears built up in her eyes, clouding her vision and giving her a headache. She’d never cared before, so why now?</p><p>Maybe it was the finality, this wasn’t something she could change.  Maybe it was because everything lined up just right and she could see the pattern,  the pattern that told her what she didn’t want to hear. </p><p>When she was little she’d always wanted a wedding so she could wear a pretty dress, she’d find pictures of dresses and cut them up to create her own, without a single doubt in her mind that a time would come for her to wear one. As Michelle grew, she still wanted a pretty dress and a day all about her, despite how selfish it was. It never wavered in her mind that somewhere in the future she’d have a wedding. Even as she realized that romance was annoying, a waste of time, overrated and idolized. Even when she turned down a kiss (it would have been her first) from a guy she liked. Even when she decided that she didn’t really like the idea of dating. </p><p>Michelle had always been her own person, and her distance from all the other girls swooning over a person they didn’t even know was always apparent. But that type of thing was just lumped in with the rest of her, she was an independent thinker, that’s what her mother said. It became almost a personality trait, and she avoided romance as much as possible, skipping books or shows because there was too much sex, and a love triangle, and an affair, and pining character, and the list went on. But that was just Michelle, and she was still going to get married, even if she couldn’t imagine dating anyone. </p><p>Michelle hated sex jokes, and hated how that was all humor became, so she stopped caring about comedy, about making others laugh because it always ended in the same things. She became known as a depressed loner, but that was okay with her, because if that’s all people talked about, she couldn’t care less not being around. Michelle became an activist, because when you’re fighting for the rights of others, people either care about the cause you support, or not at all. Whenever anyone asked if it was maybe time for a boyfriend, she had an answer prepared. Maybe romance wasn’t a structure of an overly capitalist system, but no one cared enough to debate it.</p><p>And then, Michelle met Peter. She liked Peter, a lot, and he, he liked Liz. Michelle sat and waited, and thought that maybe this was the one, the first person she really clicked with, maybe this was what romance was about. Peter was all big smiles and floppy curls, always excited, and passionate about everything. He was the antithesis of Michelle, but she liked it that way.</p><p>Peter was smart, idiot as he acted sometimes, he was top of the decathlon team, and chemistry, and algebra, and well, basically everything. Whenever he walked into a room her eyes were pulled in his direction, and she couldn’t look away. There was something about him that was better than everyone else somehow, and she couldn’t stop searching his face for what it was.</p><p>Then Liz moved, and Peter was free. Michelle had worked her way into being friends with Ned and Peter, and so, when Liz left, she stayed there. She’d been friends for so long that she decided things were fine as they were.  As long as she could talk to Peter, see his face and hear his voice, enjoy the casual knowledge he constantly spewed about biochemistry or mechanics. She was content.</p><p>Until the word that turned her world on its head. Maybe it was right, and had been all along, but if that was true, then every idea she’d ever had about a future came crumbling down. Logically it made sense, she didn’t want this, and probably never would, but it was the finality, the way it closed a door on something she was sure to happen. And it was wrong, really, really wrong.</p><p>So Michelle cried, grieving the loss of a life that would never be. She was never going to date, not Peter, not anyone. She was never going to get married, have that person who was hers, she was never going to have kids of her own. She wasn’t going to be normal, and she desperately wished she could be. It clawed at her insides and gnawed on her heart. What was the future even going to look like? Before it had been bright and interesting, and now, somehow, it was sad and lonely. </p><p>She wanted something to cheer her up, to make her feel better, reassure her, but she couldn’t find it. The happy, fluffy movies, books, and shows, were riddled with romance, and when she was upset about the very thing, it became grating. Michelle wanted to scream, everything was trapped inside of her chest, and she couldn’t get it out, because no one knew.  She felt invisible, and she cried, because somehow the word had made things worse, not better like it was supposed to.  </p><p>Michelle cried for longer than she wanted to admit before she wiped away her tears, and started researching. The more research she did, the brighter things started to look. She could still get a person, she could still have kids, she could still have a life. Even if it was unorthodox and strange those weren’t new words to Michelle, she’d be ok. Even if the word didn’t make it seem that way.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's a short little thing, but I hope y'all liked it. If anyone is feeling alone in their asexuality or aromanticism, feel free to message me, I even have a growing list of aro/ace recs that I can't wait to give to someone, lol.</p><p>my tumblr is @papered-owl</p></blockquote></div></div>
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